Dopes

Last night, Thursday, Sydney was like a Friday night due to today’s public holiday for APEC. With a long weekend ahead the pubbers and clubbers raged well into the night, despite the wet and squally weather, making for non-stop work.

Around 2.30am this morning I dropped some young fellas off in the western suburbs. Even though there was no day driver waiting for the cab I figured I’d done enough by then and so turned for home.

However at the first intersection the door suddenly opened and a short, stocky fella climbed in and ordered the City. It was the last place I wanted to go as I wasn’t far from home. But having forgotten to kill the Vacant light I reluctantly accepted the fare.

The passenger was really surly and without asking commandeered the radio with some loud gangster rap. Given what was about to happen it was an apt choice of music. Within five minutes he was fast asleep, even though he’d revealed he was off to work at Oxford Street.

After nine hours and some 260 kilometres I wasn’t very sharp and so initially wasn’t too concerned, at least my intuition didn’t sound alarm bells. However arriving in the City I began to have doubts about his heavy sleeping and intentions on paying.

I knew that upon arrival the passenger could simply open the door and walk, and there was nothing I could safely do about it. In short, the odds were heavily in his favour. So when my half-hearted attempt to wake him failed I resolved to detour to the Police Headquarters, behind Oxford and sort it there. Even up the odds.

Then I spotted a police patrol car conducting a traffic stop. Beautiful. Pulling in behind them and flashing my lights brought an immediate response from a male and female constable. "I’ve got a funny feeling about my passenger," I told them. "He’s really shitty and I can’t wake him. Can you help me make sure he’s got bucks." With Oxford Street in sight the meter was showing $33.

When the copper opened the passenger door he awoke to the sight of flashing police lights, with an officer demanding he produce some money. Needless to say the passenger was dazed and shocked, and after some incoherent mumbling held up two fingers, indicating he only had two bucks. With that he was ordered out of the cab, where it was confirmed he had no more money nor credit cards.

They finally gave up with his evasive explanations and the male copper frisked him whilst two female officers searched his bag. Not only was he carrying a knife but his bag contained suspected drugs and stolen property.

After taking my details the male copper said, "What do you want to do about the fare, press charges ? You’d have to go to court..." "Mate, forget about it," I laughed. "With a bloke like that I him want out of my life. He’s all yours." Indeed, the thought of him carrying a knife had really spooked me, so I thanked the cop and left.

Not only was I shaking over what might have been, but also laughing. Firstly, over the passenger’s stupidity. Surely it’s a basic tenet of criminal activity not to blow one’s cover over a lousy taxi fare.

Furthermore, the occupants of the car being subjected to the traffic stop started hassling the cops !? "Hey," protested one, "we were here first." "Listen," growled the officer, "the longer you have to wait the better off you are. Get back over there and wait !" Obviously he’d been drink driving and was waiting for a breath test. Idiot.

Finally, a passing pedestrian, a young guy made a smart-arse comment, "Bloody cabbies - they’re always breaking the law." The copper snapped back, "Aw yeah, what makes you think he’s done anything wrong ?" Sheeesh, talk about dopes. When I was a young fella the golden rule was never give cheek to a copper. How times have changed.

Comments

[enkew]

When I was a young fellah a copper caught me writing "Merry Christmas" in lipstick on a shop window. He grabbed me by the ear (my mates had cleared off by then) and took me home where I got a slap in the chops from Dad and had to report to the cop shop for the next three Saturdays to work in the station's rose garden. Mrs Policeman would bring me and the other desperados tea and bikkies about 10 o'clock and then we were free to go. The good old days - YES, and why doesn't it happen still? Sigh!

[Juffy]

' "Hey," protested one, "we were here first." '

...what? I've heard some stupid things to say to cops, but asking to be shafted first because you've been waiting longer is a new one.

[Goldstein]

Good Old Days.. Ah yes, when NSW had "The best Police Force money can buy"... I took my Yamaha down to the Pub Drive-Through with a friend on the back, to pick up some beer for an older mate too lazy to go himself. We were 16, no helmets, on my flash new red Yamaha. About 100 metres from home a plain car lights up a portable blue light -yup, the cops. Detectives.. They pull us over, suss us out, lecture about helmets, lecture about the dozen cans of beer stuck between us on the seat..

We get ordered to go home to my place and stay near the phone, because their "Inspector" was going to call my mother. They "confiscated" the beer and off they went, to "brief the Inspector"..

So there's me and my pal, sitting in the kitchen with mum, dry mouthed and sweating, waiting for the Boss copper to call -from 7.00pm until 10.00pm, on a warm Friday night...

Do I need to spell it out? These two CIB veterans had just scored their "meal break" refreshments, and had a laugh in the process. At least we didn't get "pinched" I guess..

[manly cabbie]

only 260km on a busy nite adrian you don't try very hard do you.

[Lee]

Good, quick thinking, Adrian. It's always good to be on the alert like that, particularly in your business.

There is so little respect around these days...it is a concern. So many young people (I know there are equally, if not more good young folk) have no respect for the law or discipline. A stint in the army for them wouldn't go astray!